


Comfortember/Whumptober 2020 Day 16/Day 9 “Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day”/“Confession”

by sherlockwhomentalist



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Peter Parker, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Whump, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Scars, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27484708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockwhomentalist/pseuds/sherlockwhomentalist
Summary: Best Dad Tony Stark being a father to reckless Peter Boi
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 80
Collections: Comfortember 2020, Whumptober 2020





	Comfortember/Whumptober 2020 Day 16/Day 9 “Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day”/“Confession”

A spray of bullets pierced Peter’s back, knocking the wind out of him. Adrenalin pumped through him, making him desperate, but quick. Peter shot a web, latching onto the barrel of one gun. He directed it to the side, causing the enemy to fire at his own team, wounding or killing them. 

Peter sent out another web, an electric one. He shocked the last shooter, making him twitch and fall to the ground. 

“Hey! It’s Spider-man! Get ‘em!” 

Peter spun around, his eyes widening as ten more thugs rounded the corner. They aimed their guns at him, and time began to slow. He watched as, one by one, they fired.

Peter crouched, sending all of his energy into his legs. He leapt, soaring out of the way of the gunfire. He shot two webs, one for each arm, sticking them to the ground. Still in the air, Peter pulled himself down, flying at the thugs before they could react. At the last second, he shot electric rapid fire webs, paralyzing his enemies.

He hit the ground, rolling to minimise the impact, though he still left a crack in the asfalt.

Once he was out of harm's way, Peter collapsed to the ground, his back throbbing from the gunshot wounds, and he could feel a few more lodged in his leg. 

“You're losing a significant amount of blood,” Karen pointed out. “Your vitals are dropping dramatically. Would you like me to call for help?”

“No!” Peter blurted out. “No. No, I’m good. I’m good, I got it.” Peter pulled himself to his feet, biting back a groan as his back shifted. He could feel the bullets lodged in his skin.

“How about we… not tell anyone about this?”

Peter woke up in a cold sweat, grabbing at his back. He thought he could feel blood oozing around his fingertips. Peter only felt crooked lines dotting his back. He flopped back down when his mind was convinced the bullets weren’t there anymore. His skin itched.

It had been two weeks since the mission. Since his solo mission to a gang-owned oil plant to take out the leader. It was successful, despite the significant injury Peter had taken.

It still haunted him, no matter how hard he tried to shake it. Tony didn’t know, he had made sure to wear extra thick clothes until the scars healed. Though there were still white circles dotting his body.

Peter had had nightmares after missions before plenty of times. But this was different. He was starting to see things.

One time Peter was sparring with Natasha. He had the upper hand, and was rather proud of himself. Then, he swore he could’ve heard the clatter of boots, the exact same noise the boots of the gang made. Peter had frozen, his senses zoning in on the noise to find nothing before Natasha knocked him to the floor.

A few hours later, three days after his return, he thought he heard their shouting from the other room. It sent him into attack mode, his body tensing and spinning to face the noise. Turns out it was Clint yelling at Thor for eating the last Pop-Tart. 

“Jumpy today?” Tony joked, giving him a pat on the back.

“I… thought I heard something,” Peter said, forcing himself to relax. 

“How’s summer break going?” Tony asked with a sip of his coffee. 

“Good.”

“Mmm,” Tony hummed. “Everything okay, kid?”

“What?” Peter looked up at him. “Oh, ugh, nothing! Everything’s fine.”

“Convincing.” Tony gave him a pat on the back. He touched the still-healing wounds, causing Peter to cringe and hiss.

And it went on like that. A sound reminding Peter of the mission. The sound making him go into fight mode, and then someone commenting on his jumpiness. It was a cycle that held Peter in a constant fight or flight mode, and stressed him out. 

Peter looked up the symptoms. It was either PTSD, or Peter was going to die. But he did look it up on Google, so that wasn’t a very reliable source. 

This night was the straw that sent the camel into a total state of disarray. He ran out of his room, his body wanting to be anywhere but… Where didn’t he want to be? Apparently he knew where he did want to be.

Peter’s feet stopped outside of Tony’s room. He felt like he was a little kid again, waking up Aunt May and Uncle Ben after he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t bring his fist to knock on the door. 

Peter sat on the ground, setting his back against Tony’s door. As if Tony’s room itself could protect him. His eyes drifted closed, and he fell asleep.

Peter woke up from the door opening and falling back into Tony’s room.

“What the- Peter?” Tony was immediately at his side, looking over him with worried eyes. “Is everything alright bud?”

“Oh. Yeah?” Peter was confused as to when he got to Tony’s door. And then it all came back, causing his eyebrows to knit together. 

Tony helped Peter to his feet, ruffling his hair. He then grabbed Peter by the ear and dragged him into the room and over to his bed.

“Now you are going to tell me exactly what’s going on and you are not going to lie to me,” Tony demanded as he released Peter’s ear.

“I told you it-“

“You told me it was nothing? Is that what you’re going to tell me? Again? Don’t bullshit me Peter.” Tony sat in his desk chair, crossing one leg over his knee, swiveling slightly back and forth.

“I- I, ugh.” Peter couldn’t form words. His mouth dried and his face got all red. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“What?” Tony asked. “Well, everyone tells me you’ve been skittish lately. Jumping when someone calls for you, when someone makes a loud noise.” Tony scooted closer, looking Peter dead in the eyes. “This is about that mission, isn’t it. That one with the oil plant.”

“How did you know?” Peter sputtered.

“Aha! I knew it. So what’s going on, kid?” Tony leaned forewarned, giving Peter his full attention.

“Well, I’ve been having these nightmares. And… seeing things. Like, when I was out with Thor, the camera flash from the lady’s phone- she wanted a picture with him because he’s popular and stuff- it reminded me of a gunshot, I guess.”

“Hmm.” Tony rubbed his beard. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Well, umm. It usually goes away after a few days,” Peter explained.

“Did you get hurt anywhere? That sometimes… you know I don’t have to spell it out.” Tony leaned back. “It’s on your back isn’t it?”

“It’s kind of everywhere,” he admitted.

“What?!” Tony exclaimed, shooting up from his chair.

“It’s mostly healed anyways. No big deal! Look.” Peter turned around, pulling the back of his shirt up to reveal the barely visible scars.

“Gunshots?! Why didn’t you tell me Pete?” Tony examined his back, rubbing a thumb along one of the scars.

“Cause I could handle it!” Peter huffed. “You don’t need to baby me, okay?”

“How many times were you shot?” Tony asked, sitting back down with a sigh. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I dunno.” Peter counted it up in his head. He pulled 6 out of his back, three out of his left leg, and two out his arm. “A lot… I could tell you the exact number, but that would make you angrier.”

Tony glared at him. He let out a breath. “I know a few things that’ll help you. Sleep in today, might help. Now go on and I’ll write some down.”

“I can’t sleep…” Peter said, looking down at his hands.

“Oh, right. Would sleeping in my bed help?” 

“... I think so.” 

Peter looked up to see Tony giving him a warm smile. Tony stood and ruffled Peter’s head. He planted a kiss on his hair, making Peter feel warm. 

“Get some rest, m’kay?”

“Alrighty Mr. Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> Added a bit of Anxiety Stark. Hope you enjoyed!


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